Into The Blue
by Castle Haven
Summary: Set after the season 2 finale, goes AU after the finale. Castle's gone away and Kate is tumbling down the rabbit hole. Will he be back in time to save her? Cover art by cranbs
1. Chapter 1

_All credits go to cranbs. She had this idea and she kindly gifted it to me and allowed all my ridiculous suggestions._

_Thank you, dear friend._

xxx

_"__Into the blue and faded world of my daydreams_

_I feel I'm falling deeper everyday_

_Melting away down a dark and endless abyss_

_I'm grasping at straws and I'm chasing the wind_

_As I fall on my face over and over again"_

**_Into The Blue- Sarah Jackson Holman_**

xxx

**Into The Blue**

**Chapter 1**

"Lanie, I do not need a cab. I'm perfectly fine. I'll get my cruiser and I'll drop you off at your place. Don't be ridiculous," Kate tried to reason. Lanie wasn't listening at all. She stepped onto the curb and waved for a cab. It was either providence or coincidence, Kate thought, as one came to a screeching halt immediately in front of them, nearly scraping the edge of the footpath in front of the Twelfth Precinct.

"You just had more beers than even Chuck Norris could handle and there is no way in hell I'm going to let you drive," Lanie said as she ribbed Kate gently towards it and relayed her Greenwich Village address to the cabdriver.

"Come on. You're exaggerating; I am _not_ drunk. Look at my hand; it's steady as a rock."

She stepped away from the cab and extended her right hand for her friend to see, palm facing downward, fingers spread out, completely in control. It was almost too perfect to be true. Lanie looked at it in surprise for a moment but remained firm on her decision.

"Nuh uh, girl. I know you too well for you to fool me with your superhuman will power. Now get in the damn cab," she thundered, opening the cab door and not-so-gently shoving her in.

Kate gave up arguing finally, turning to face the cabdriver who was watching the drama unfold with a bemused smirk. She gave him a death glare and ordered, "Show's over. Let's go."

She sunk into the seat, leaning her elbow against the window, cheek on her palm, as she tried to sort out the jumble of thoughts running wild in her head. The devastating, not to mention horribly awkward goodbyes, she and Castle had said seemed to be the only thought her tired brain could process.

The scene played in her head on repeat- the way his eyes seemed to sparkle, smile hanging on her every word, face echoing the sincerity and hope on her own face. And in that moment she could've sworn he felt the same.

Then _Gina _materialised out of nowhere.

_Sucker punch._

It had all come so easily to Kate after that- shutting down, swallowing the words along with her feelings- from vulnerable Kate to tough-nut Beckett in an instant. But somewhere, through her impervious shell, a squeaky voice of insecurity had crawled out and before she could stop it she'd said the words.

_"__See you in the fall?"_

She ran her fingers through her hair now, tugging slightly at the roots to pull her back to the reality that was staring her right in the face.

_Richard Castle had too much of an effect on her._

xxx

Her key scraped at the keyhole in the dimly lit corridor, a few curses slipping from her mouth, aimed at the useless lighting. Nothing but misplaced anger. In a further display of extremely uncharacteristic behaviour she ungracefully _plonked _down on the couch, burying her face in the soothing, warm fabric of the one new piece of furnishing she'd bothered to buy in her recently rented apartment. She wondered what evil spirit had possessed her to take up this impossible mission of telling Richard Castle that she lov-_liked _him.

_Where did that even come from? She was _not_ in love with him._

She needed a cold shower to wash her mind of these crazy thoughts, but perhaps, she thought, a warm bath would be more calming after the day she'd had. She set the water running in the bathtub before gulping down a tumbler of ice cold water from the fridge in a bid to cool down her temper. She begrudgingly sent Lanie an obligatory message telling her she'd arrived home safe. She was still pissed about the whole cab-versus-cruiser incident. _What was up with Lanie making a big deal out of the whole thing anyway? Ugh._

As she slipped into the bathtub, she couldn't help but think how childish she sounded, like she was back in high school fighting with her best friend over the captain of the football team. _Wait. Had she just compared Castle to the captain of the football team? _Thinking about Richard Castle while she was in her bathtub itself was unsettling enough.

_What was next? Poking needles in Gina-shaped voodoo dolls? _

She chuckled in amusement at the sheer immaturity of her thoughts. And then in the spirit of relaxing humour, she considered a few more teenage methods of what Maddie used to call 'Tempest Control', including retail therapy, burning pictures, cake eating sprees and electric blue highlights. She could almost picture a _very _bewildered Esposito bemusedly inquiring if the Demi Lovato treatment had worked for her. She dismissed the thought with a vehement shake of her head, a crooked smile skirting past her lips.

If Kate Beckett was anything, she was independent and mature. She could get over this trivial crisis with a considerable amount of grace and without ending up looking like a teenage rock star. _Ok. Maybe the blue highlights were a bit too drastic._ Slight change couldn't be bad. Maybe she could wear her hair wavier or longer. Maybe she could dye it- a little less chocolate, a little more chestnut with just a touch of blonde.

_Blonde? Gah._

_Because blonde was what Richard Castle wanted?_

The ephemeral respite that the rare bout of humour had provided evaporated all too quickly with that _very _disturbing thought. She hated feeling this helpless. But helpless was exactly how she felt after being robbed of her precious five minutes. Five more minutes was all she would have needed back at the precinct. And she believed she really could have told him, said the simple _yes _he'd been waiting for. If only she'd arrived sooner, if only she'd worked a few minutes lesser, if only she had worked up the courage to tell him sooner, if only she had accepted his offer to go to the Hamptons earlier.

There were too many ifs. And if she was being completely honest, she was probably kidding herself. What made her believe that Richard Castle, (jackass) playboy, (childish) millionaire, (exasperating) author, would've dropped all of his plans for her and carried her away to the Hamptons? It sounded ridiculous even in her head.

_What was I even thinking?_

The water in the bathtub had turned cold and it did nothing to bring down the surging, jumping flutter in her stomach that was equal parts anger and the pain of being rejected. She rested her head on the edge of the tub one last time, took a deep breath and climbed out. She wrapped the towel tight around her quickly, trying to avoid the slightly chilly draft that had snuck in through the ventilation. She closed her eyes for a moment, just wishing for someone to hug the cold away.

_He hadn't even hugged her goodbye; just a cursory handshake because _Gina_ was standing _right there. _The one he had chosen._

She was just beginning to ponder upon how unfair the whole thing had been when she remembered how she, herself had brushed off Demming. And he had been more than her partner. Demming- the perfect guy, the yin to her yin, rejected, sent away with just another relationship cliché. And in less than twenty four hours, she'd now found herself on the other end of that bitter rejection. It seemed the universe was having a rather pleasant time inflicting irony upon her dysfunctional relationships.

She splashed cold water on her face, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Maybe Lanie was right; she was drunk. Scratch that. _Maybe_ mildly inebriated. Not drunk, _definitely not_ drunk enough to abandon her cruiser. She just looked exhausted. Her eyes strained to stay open after the rigorous case load but she could still hear the heavy pounding of her heart against her ribs.

In the state of semi-sobriety, she felt empty, weak, tired, physically and emotionally raw. And for the first time that evening, she let the tears fall.

_Because it hurt._

_It hurt so bad._

She wanted to run away some place familiar and safe- to the void within her, deep and hollow. It was a cavern of loss and regrets and guilt that she knew so well; a totem from her past. She'd been there before, back when she was just an ordinary Manhattan girl and fate had dealt her a cruel hand. She was familiar with this vacuum that had walls as thick as bricks yet brittle like glass- a vacuum that hadn't even allowed _love_ to penetrate for so long. It was the vacuum that sucked living out of life but the only space that had allowed her to survive despite her grief.

She felt her emotions mount as her heart began to beat faster, threatening to shatter her rib cage until she could barely recognise the woman staring back at her in the mirror. Puffy eyes, dishevelled hair, wrinkled forehead. So resentful, so angry -at herself, at the universe, at the path it had led her on, and the one thing…the one person she wanted…but couldn't have.

She pounded on the glass in a sudden fit of fury. It fractured on impact with her fist, its surface rippling into a web of distortion. It startled her into shock for a few seconds as she saw a crack form, saw her lithe form in the glass web and noticed the few shards of glass that had fallen to the sink, aware of the gash at the edge of her palm that oozed blood.

The crimson brought along stark realisation.

_This was so unlike her._

The last time she was wounded, the void had been her respite all through her recovery. She had recovered there and had forged her own path out, one of righteousness and justice and formative action; not one bogged down by alcohol-induced fits of destructive anger. She pressed her palm flat onto the cold granite, and leaned forward, so that she could feel a tiny fragment of the broken glass making its mark against her skin.

_Enough was enough. _

She needed purpose and direction to get her out of this bottomless pit. She needed a new focus, not a new partner or a new boyfriend. She knew of only one way out, only one war to drown herself in so deep that it would take an eternity to resurface. She knew the only way she'd survived before, the only resemblance of any solace-

The case. _The case_.

xxx

Thank you to Katie and Indrani for the beta.

I've got a few chapters written ahead so updates will be soon. It's going to be a lot of angst and a lot of caskett :p

Good? Bad? Horrible? Let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Richard Castle yawned, and brushed his hand through his hair. Shifting uncomfortably in the driver's seat of his Mercedes S400, he glanced over at Gina in the passenger seat, debating whether to honk again or not. He decided against it, given as how honking the previous time -or the two hundred times before that- hadn't worked. It seemed all of Manhattan's elite was heading down to the Hamptons for the extended weekend, and the route to the expressway was clogged.

Gina had been nothing but entertaining all evening, regaling him with anecdotes from the red carpet in Paris or Milan or some other place. He really hadn't been paying much attention. He'd been staring out the window most of the time. He was tired from working the case all day and he missed Alexis. This was supposed to be their father-daughter kick-off to summer weekend. How it had morphed into a possible romantic reunion with his ex-wife cum publisher, he really didn't know. It all seemed like a blur. Still, he was grateful for the company, and glad to get away from the city and his muse for a while. He needed the break to write since he'd been lagging behind on his deadlines. Proximity to his muse clearly hadn't been much of an inspiration. Maybe distance would work.

The trunk of the silver sedan was crammed with the illegal fireworks that he had bought for Alexis. He wasn't sure he was ready to burst them without her. Sure, a summer programme for High School students at Princeton, her prospective college, was a big deal for her. But he had never spent a Memorial Day weekend without her, and it upset him- the fact that their little family rituals were slowly disappearing one by one, as she tried to find her own place in the world. Pretty soon, she would be off to college. What was he going to do then? Just the notion scared him.

His thoughts were interrupted by loud honking from the cars behind him, beckoning him to inch forward a few feet. Suppressing the urge to slam down on the accelerator, he begrudgingly advanced the car ahead, before traffic came to a standstill again. He sighed in frustration, his patience wearing thin and his eyes struggling to stay open. He tried his best to suppress a yawn but failed miserably.

"Rick, have you even been listening to a word I've been saying?" Gina's voice cut through, eager to grasp his attention.

He was caught off guard for a moment with no excuse at hand.

"No…uh…I'm sorry Gina, it's just been a long day-err-rough case but go ahead, I'm listening now."

"Well, I just got this E-vite. It's a barbecue over at Douglas Shapiro's place on Sunday evening. I think we should go."

"Hmm, Dougie _has _been bugging me to come over for ages."

"And this would be perfect. Think about it."

"It's-It's just that I was kind of hoping to lay low, you know, less socializing and more writing."

"Oh, come on, Richard, it's just one night. It'll be fun. Don't worry. We'll leave early so you can burst all the crackers you've got stashed in the trunk." She winked at him.

He managed a grateful smile.

"Well, alright. I don't wanna be a killjoy. That's Beckett's department. Tell Doug I'm in. And tell him his party had better live up to his name, seeing as how the road is basically flooded with all his invitees."

"That's more like the Richard Castle I know," she said, grinning mischievously as she pulled out her phone to RSVP.

He could only offer an uncontrollable yawn in reply.

"Rick, you've had a few beers and I really don't fancy the prospect of you falling asleep at the wheel. How about you let me drive?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll pull over."

He couldn't believe he was surrendering the wheel without a word of protest (even though he was tired) or agreeing to attend a barbecue full of enthusiastic people wanting to chat him up about his life in the city (which he was trying to escape from in the first place, for God's sakes). If it had been Beckett, he would have forgotten his exhaustion, and fought her tooth and nail to assert his right. With Gina, he just shrugged and relinquished control, like he'd done ever since he'd known her. It was easier that way. That's how it had always been in their relationship. She'd been the driver, controlling the wheel, dictating the terms, and he'd be too mesmerised by her command to object. But when it came to Alexis, his silly paternal protective instinct dictated the terms, and that had destroyed his and his daughter's relationship with Gina.

It was different with Beckett, it was a challenge; they were equals. With Beckett…

He shouldn't have been thinking about Beckett at all, because thinking about her hurt too much. She'd spurned him, after all. But he couldn't help it; images of her, and her charming robbery detective boyfriend kept making their way into his brain. Right at that moment she would've been on her way to his fishing cabin, and he would've been putting the moves on her. He would've been kiss—_Stop right there! _He didn't want to think about it. In fact, he didn't want to think about pretty much anything related to New York. So he tried to picture fireworks and barbecued chicken on the beach instead, reclining his seat further, and folding his hands across his chest, giving in to the sleep that tugged at his eyelids.

He didn't even flinch when Gina had to swerve the car sharply to avoid a speeding motorcyclist or when the landscape changed from grey concrete to clear skies, calm waters and green meadows as their car picked up speed on the expressway, leaving New York far behind.

When the car finally came to a halt, he jerked awake with a kink in his neck. He rubbed his eyes and looked out of the window to see the familiar gravel driveway, the white roof shimmering in the dark, the stolid brick walls, and the lush green of the well kempt lawn with the shadow of the sprawling mansion looming upon it. He stepped out of the car to feel the cool breeze on his skin, and he looked up at the moon and took it all in. He felt liberated as he listened to the distant sound of the waves crashing upon the shore, reassured that getting out of New York had been the best decision he'd made in a very long time.

Xxx

A/n: Thank you to Indrani for the beta. We will switch from Kate's POV to Castle's POV so we can see both sides of the story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_A/n: It seemed like an appropriate occasion to post this. A tribute to Kate Beckett's apartment._

xxx

She woke up to unfamiliar grey walls mashed together with red brick and for a second she was unsure of where she was, until she remembered that the place was her new apartment. The one she'd rented after her old place had been blown to pieces by a bomb. She was still not used to waking up here. It felt foreign. She missed her old bedroom, the pale peach walls that had made it subtly feminine, and even the rusty old lamp on the bedside table. She'd had it ever since she was a teenager.

She did like her new apartment, loved the brick patterns and the spacious layout. It had a classic feel to it, ambient and quaint yet bold. She had a bigger closet compared to her old place, a tiny study, and much better security. She'd had a lot of dreams about what the place could be when she got it. Only she'd never gotten around to it, possibly because of her romantic experiments with Demming.

She brushed her teeth while surveying the damage to her bathroom mirror, frightened for just a moment by how close she had come to losing it the night before. Her stomach grumbled, and the gash at the edge of her palm was caked with dried blood, making its presence felt by a gnawing, perpetual sting. She washed it, dabbed at the wound with a piece of antiseptic gauze and then temporarily bandaged it with a clean handkerchief.

_Everyone is allowed a night to be an irrational mess. But it's over now._

She sighed and walked into the hall, sore eyes taking in the sight. Her coat was uncharacteristically strewn across the couch along with her phone and wallet. _More painful reminders of the night before. _Ignoring them for the moment, she turned to the kitchen to explore the contents of her fridge instead, relieved to find a milk carton that had still not expired. Cereal would have to make do until she made a grocery run. She dug into a bowl of bran flakes, trying to decide where to begin.

A plan. Yes. That's where. She just needed a really good plan.

Irrational as her thoughts may have been, her resolution was final.

She wanted to find her old case notes first. For all she knew, they might've been at the bottom of one of the giant cardboard boxes crowding her study that she'd been procrastinating to sort out. Assuming they had even made it out of the fire. It was very tempting to start on the case right away but she wanted to do it the right way- didn't want to leave any stone unturned. She couldn't do that if she was burned out.

The more she thought about it, the more tasks she came up with. The list never seemed to end.

Erasing the aftermath of last night's anguish came before all else. She needed to fix the mess in her drawing room, and the damned mirror, after having properly bandaged her hand, of course. She owed Lanie an apology too.

Groceries followed close behind after considering the appalling state of her supplies; then came making her apartment a bit more personal. She needed new furniture. All she had were her couch, and a few borrowed pieces of furniture that didn't really fit in with the décor. She also needed new curtains, new lights, and maybe a painting or two. A couple of new rugs wouldn't do any harm. Oh! And paint. She definitely needed to paint the walls another colour, something a little less hostile grey and terracotta, a little more Beckett-flavoured.

Before she knew it, she'd spent no less than an hour occupied with thoughts of colour palettes, leather upholstery and furnishing shops, furiously scribbling away in the tiny study, prolonging her shopping list by two whole pages. She stretched her arms to ease the kink in her back and spun a little in her office chair.

A quick look around convinced her that she needed to begin the remodelling with the study. After all, it was going to be the bullpen for her investigation and she couldn't have it looking like an oversized storage closet. She added a few more things to her list and took a final look at it. Chewing on her lip, she wondered how on earth she was going to incorporate the mammoth list into her frugal budget.

But that was a minor matter.

What was important was that she felt an inane sense of purpose for the first time in twenty four hours. The plan was working. She was as calm and poised as Detective Beckett was in an interrogation room. No mystery writers on her mind at all. Nope. _Not at all._

_Richard Castle? Who?_

xxx

She'd retrieved her cruiser and run through her grocery list at incredible speed when she got called in to the precinct. _Damn! _She sped off to report for duty, hoping that she wouldn't have to give up her free weekend for just another VIP case.

No such luck. Apartment renaissance would have to wait.

Captain Montgomery briefed her when she walked into the precinct. "Some kind of gang war has sparked a whole slew of dead bodies. And now every would-be murderer thinks he can get away with murder under the random gang violence tag. We have ten victims as of today and it's just past two p.m. The Mayor is getting worried, Beckett, and the Commissioner has asked me to help Gangs on this. I've called in all my best detectives."

"Yes sir, I understand," Kate replied, stepping out of the office.

"I asked Detective Sloan from Gangs to mail you the case details. Get yourself up to speed."

"On it, Sir."

She was a little bit pissed about having to give up her plans, but she didn't have time to throw a tantrum. Besides, she knew how much it affected victim's families when murder cases were dismissed under random gang violence tags. She'd just have to fit in her personal activities around her heavy work schedule. Nothing she hadn't done before- just a few late nights and some speedy lunches.

She got back to her desk and did a quick inventory of her pending tasks. Paperwork stared back at her but it would have to wait. As she switched on her computer, she noted that her CPU felt warm. The machine was working fine. It wasn't a heating problem. She'd just switched it on! _So weird. Had someone else been on her computer?_

She opened the email from Detective Sloan and lost herself in the minutiae of her case. Ryan and Esposito arrived soon after that, both grumbling about being called in on their weekend off. Beckett conveyed the Captain's orders to them, complete with stern expression. They did not have much time to debate the matter. Beckett called Lanie up to inform her that they were on their way to the morgue.

"Guys? Has I.T. been doing some computer checks or something recently?" she asked them as they grabbed their coats.

"Nope," Ryan replied. "Why?"

"It's nothing," she quietened his suspicions. "Let's go. Chop chop."

xxxxx

To their credit, Ryan and Esposito did not ask her about the bandage on her hand or the dark circles under her eyes. She knew they were trained detectives and they had put two and two together already, and weren't saying anything about it out of reverence for her. She was glad for it. Keeping her personal life out of crime solving was rule number one of compartmentalization for her.

Lanie was more concerned than mad at her so she cut Kate some slack.

"What happened to your hand, girl?"

Kate consciously pulled the sleeve of her coat over the bandage. "I was putting up the stupid pull-up bar Espo gave me and fell off the ladder."

Espo raised his eyebrows. "I don't think it's the bar that's stupid, Kate."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm going to get the eye roll, aren't I?" He shook his head in faux seriousness.

She smiled and shrugged it off. "Guys, dead body. Focus."

No one mentioned Castle. She had already told them about her breakup with Demming at Castle's send-off party. What they didn't know was that she had conveniently left out the part where she had almost confessed her feelings to Castle. She wasn't ready to talk about that yet. Besides, they had probably figured it out already. Slipping on her gloves, she knelt over the dead body on the table in front of her and put on her patented detective cape- a rigid cloak that made all the miseries of her private life invisible to everybody.

Except herself. They chewed at her every second she took her mind off the case, gnawed at her bones until she wanted to run away from her thoughts, and hide in _the_ case all over again.

It was closing in on ten p.m. when Kate finally made it back home. It took her two trips up from the cruiser to get all her shopping bags into the apartment, and she was exhausted by the end of it. Kate laid her hand flat on the granite counter top, allowing the cold to numb her aching muscles. She poured herself a glass of red wine, laying the bottle down gently. Picking up the glass, she watched as the crimson liquid sloshed against its glass confines, came close to but not quite escaping. She carried it to the couch, resting her weary legs and flexing her arm. She winced as the spot across the bandage on her wound throbbed, where the shopping bags had tugged it earlier. But she didn't care that her hand hurt; she didn't care that she was tired. She had moved on from yesterday and that's all that mattered to her.

xxx

A/N: _I've taken some liberties with Beckett's old apartment since we never got to see much of it. As for the new one I've looked through all the set designs, photos and plans I could get my hands on, to make it appear as realistic as possible. Let me know if I did Castle's set Lords justice. Thanks Indrani for all your suggestions on this one._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

He was lying flat on his stomach underneath the covers when he was awakened by his cell phone buzzing on the night stand. He jerked off the blanket and fumbled for it, sleepily bringing it to his ear. "Murder never sleeps, huh Beckett?" he said instinctively.

But the voice on the other end wasn't the sultry tone of the detective he had been expecting. It wasn't Beckett; it was his mother.

"Richard, are you ok?" his mother asked with what he could've sworn sounded more like mockery than concern.

"Aah yes mother, it's just that I'm not used to anybody except homicide detectives calling me in the early hours of the morning."

"Early hours? What are you talking about? It's eleven."

"What? Whoa!" he sat up in bed with a start and the bright sunlight filtering in through the French windows told him that his mother had been right. He'd slept for almost the entire morning.

"I thought you went there for writing, Richard or are you in some kind of a nocturnal phase?"

"I'm here on _vacation_, mother."

"Is that why your publisher has to accompany you, because you're on vacation? Not making sure you write instead of wasting your time?"

"Uhm actually she's here for a more _personal _reason. Gina and I talked the other night on the phone and we sort of connected…it felt like old times. So I _invited _her to come with me. "

"Oh I see. Does that mean you two-"

"We don't know yet. We're trying to figure it out."

"And Katherine?"

"What about Beckett?" he said, trying to conceal all traces of emotion from his voice. "I'll see her in the fall if I'm back but I don't know when exactly that will be. It all depends on how the writing goes. Right now, real-life murder can wait because I need to finish my book."

"I hope you do soon, kiddo. I actually called to tell you that Alexis called the loft. She said you weren't picking up your phone. She left you about half a dozen messages."

"Aah I will call her up immediately. How is she?"

"She almost squealed my ear off."

"That sounds like she's having a good time."

"Better time than me, for sure."

"Why's that?"

"I sprained my ankle on the curb yesterday and I didn't even get the taxi I was running for."

"That's terrible!"

"I had to walk a mile in the pouring rain. I was drenched. Luckily, I bumped into a friend of mine who gave me a ride home. That wasn't fun at all."

"Am I allowed to laugh? Because I can picture that scene in my head and it may not have been fun but it was certainly very funny."

"Oh shush. You know me. I'd rather have an eventful life than a dull one."

"But seriously mother, you should have just called my car service. Are you ok? You had better ice that ankle."

"I'm fine, darling. I've dealt with much worse in my time. You carry on with your plans. I won't keep you any longer."

"Ok then. Bye. Call me if you need anything."

xxx

"Rick! I was just about to come wake you up," Gina said as she led him towards his steaming coffee mug on the patio.

He looked at the mug for a minute, silently hoping for it to magically transform into the two travel-coffee mugs he and Beckett were so used to. Gina was looking up at him with expectant eyes and it wasn't fair to her that he was dwelling on the coffee habits of his muse instead of actually tasting it. He appreciated her effort, he really did. It meant that this wasn't just another one way relationship. It meant he didn't have to follow her around only to see her cosy up to other men. He didn't have to constantly live with the fear of being kicked out to the curb and being replaced. It meant he got back what he gave. And it made him happy. And that was enough…for now.

"What's the matter Rick? Did I not get the coffee right?" she asked genuinely and he smiled back at her and eased her worries with a 'not at all'.

And then he did what he was best at- switching topics.

"No, it's just I tried to ring up Alexis a few minutes ago and it goes straight to voicemail which is weird because she left me a dozen messages asking me to call her."

"Relax, you just dropped her off last night. Maybe she got caught up with something. I don't think you should worry."

"Yeah no, I'm not. She did say she was going to be busy this weekend."

"Well so are we. Very busy," she said winking at him as she disappeared off into the kitchen.

He smirked at the innuendo and considered the implications as his thoughts floated off to the good times he'd had with Gina. _Boy were they good times! _He remembered how they had led to falling in love, and then getting married. It had seemed the right thing to do then; perhaps because he mistook gratitude for love, or he got carried away by how great the sex was, never knowing how quickly that feeling would fade away. Because the truth was that they had never really been in love. Infatuation could've only taken them so far.

There were days when he regretted their history and swore to somehow erase all of it, but not today. Today was one of those days when he didn't mind so much…because he wasn't alone-she was there, and every alternative just seemed worse.

And so he grinned wide, left his coffee unfinished on the table and followed her into the kitchen.

xxx

He sat in the study, huddled over his laptop, a blank screen before him with absolutely no words on it even though he'd stared at it all day willing the words to write themselves. It was dark now and he'd still gotten nowhere except naming the document.

He intermittently stared at his phone screen, waiting for Alexis' call. He could go one day without talking to his daughter, right? He was just being crazy. But his eyes still lit up when his phone finally buzzed…only to see that the name on the caller ID was Paula. _Of course it was just his agent. _It seemed like every female on the planet except the two that he missed the most was determined to call him and he couldn't help but sound a little disappointed when he picked up.

"What has gotten into you?" Paula's excited voice rang out.

"Nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Is that why you called me? To debate what nothing sounds like?"

"When Richard Castle steers a conversation _towards _work, you know it's serious. Anyways, here goes. The NY Times wants you to write an article on the NYPD's homicide squad."

"An article? What are you talking about?"

"They wanted to do an inside piece on the NYPD and they thought you could use your partnership with Det. Beckett to provide a unique insight to readers."

"Paula, I'm floored here. I'm not even in New York. I've got a lot of writing to do for the book and honestly, I don't see myself going back to the precinct so soon."

"Stubborn as always, I see. Well, I'll give you a couple of days to think it over. If you change your mind, lemme know."

"I will. Bye Paula."

He frowned at the blank screen looking back at him once again and drew in a deep breath. He let it out slowly and flexed his fingers, letting them move over the keys without any particular thought, hesitant at first but surer and swifter as time ticked by. He knew the delete button would claim these words soon enough but he needed to get them out now so his mind could feel less crowded and so that he could _feel _a little less and put aside all the distractions and damning phone calls (or lack thereof) that had made themselves a permanent source of his irritation. This time he wasn't writing because it was his job or because he had a deadline to meet. He was writing because he loved to, because it gave him a sense of power and control, and because he wanted to forget and to remember, all at once.

xxx


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Kate Beckett was a woman on a mission and nothing could stop her. Her morning started extra-early, her coffee was extra-strong. Before most of New York had woken up, she had begun on her task for the day. She stood in the study, palming her coffee mug, surveying the mahogany bookshelf that Lanie had gifted her two weeks ago. She'd refused to accept it at first but Lanie had insisted it be her housewarming present and now it was standing in front of her, still empty. She glanced at the four cardboard boxes in the corner of the room, full of books, gathering dust, screaming negligence. She got down to business.

She sighed in relief when none of the books in the first box were Castle's. Out came all the American classics and Russian literature and contemporary fiction and a whole lot of feminist literature, all neatly fitted in their places on the shelves, until only Castle's books remained in the other box and she couldn't put it off anymore. The fire in her old apartment had reduced many of her old books to ashes but some had miraculously been saved by a door that had fallen over her bookshelf. Even some of the Derrick Storm books had been badly damaged. She noted with some amusement that she couldn't find her copy of 'Flowers For Your Grave'. She snickered at how symbolic it was that the book that had started it all had disappeared, a beginning effaced_. If only it was that simple in real life._

When she'd finished arranging them, she ran her fingers over their tops and bindings lovingly, blowing away the dust that had gathered, taking in their names and trying to remember their plots. She'd managed to replace most of her collection…except the one book that she couldn't. _Storm Fall_. That one was irreplaceable. He'd signed it to her when they had worked their first case together. There was no way she could get a new copy autographed by him again without having to see that annoying smirk on his face. NO, that would mean she would have to admit to being a fan and there was no way she was admitting _anything _to Richard Castle anymore for as long as she lived.

He'd ruined her favourite author for her. This man-child had ruined_ Richard Castle, _just the voice behind the words,the writer who had gotten her through her mother's death, who had seemed so charming so long ago when she met him at a book signing. It was all ruined. The illusion was shattered. She couldn't even look at the books anymore without thinking about how shallow he wasand how much she wished her mom was still with her and how much it hurt that _he had just walked away and it was too late to do anything, just too damn late. _

_No! _She wasn't heading down that road again. That road was dangerous. It made her feel weak and desperate and powerless and she had no intention of ever feeling the way she did that night again.

The room suddenly seemed stifling to her, like it couldn't contain the magnitude of her emotions. Beads of sweat trickled down the ridge of her nose and she pushed open the window to breathe in the fresh air as the sun began to ascend up the New York skyline. There wasn't much to see from the window, which opened over a tiny alley, so she closed her eyes and felt the cool morning breeze on her cheeks. She stayed that way until it became too chilly and she could feel her skin start to numb. She pulled it shut quickly and was closing the shutters when she saw a faint ray of morning sunlight filtering in through the panels.

With the windows closed, she couldn't see the grim alleys or smell the smoke or feel the chill. All she saw was the sunlight, slowly turning brighter, slanting over the bookshelf, revealing the specks of dust in the air. She was in her own warm haven, safe and protected and free to imagine a New York where everything was fair and right and people didn't leave or die.

She took it as a sign. A sign from the universe telling her to shut out the evil and only let the positivity illuminate her mind.

_Who was she to deny the universe its will?_

Katherine Beckett was considering entities like the Universe seriously? _Castle would be pleased, _she thought, somewhat bitterly. Nonetheless, it made perfect practical sense to her. The place was secluded, she could close the shutters if she didn't want anyone to see what she was doing, she could collate information easily and it was well lighted. Privacy and ergonomic features? Check. Those were definitely markers in Kate Beckett's decision-making process, not the judgements of supernatural elements, like the will of the Universe for example.

Satisfied with the logic, she grabbed a post it from the table, stuck it on the glass, equidistant from the shutters, in the exact centre so that the rays of the sun shone around it like a ring, and printed the huge bold headline in felt tip:

"_JOHANNA BECKETT. _

_Murdered on_

_Saturday, January 9, 1999_

_In an alley on the lower west side"_

She'd just found her murder board.

xxx

He sat in his study, brushing a hand through his hair nervously when Gina stepped into the room, in a light, floral-printed dress.

"Come on Richard! We have a party to get to. Move it!"

"Would you relax? VIPs always arrive last."

"Oh so you're a VIP now? You weren't even invited until I got us in."

"You don't have to pretend. I know they call me the White Whale."

"I don't know why I bother arguing with you when you're being stubborn."

"Oh come on. Let me just try calling Alexis again and then we'll leave."

"You already called her fifteen times in the last hour. Richard, we're already late. I'm going to be out the door in about two minutes, with or without you."

"Fine. You don't have to be so mean, you know."

He was not sorry about his irrational need to keep trying Alexis' phone every five minutes. It was Sunday now and he hadn't spoken to her since Friday. He was worried about his darling daughter away in a co-ed dorm alone. If that was unreasonable, so be it. That's what dads do. Just because Gina didn't get it didn't mean he was wrong.

"Ok but I'm not switching off my phone at the party," he said as she hurried him towards the car.

She wore a cross expression on her face throughout the car ride while he tried his daughter's phone over and over again. Gina was not wasting any opportunitiess to whip him with her sarcasm. He was too wrapped up in his worry to be affected by her comments. His writer's imagination conjured up images of Alexis surrounded by a group of drunken boys in shady dorm rooms with no supervisors and it made the colour drain away from his face with every phone call that went to voicemail. He hated it when at times like these, his mind, so used to its dramatic flair, came up with worst-case scenarios that did nothing to quell that sinking feeling in his gut that something was about to go horribly wrong. He wished Beckett was there, so that she could read the genuine fear on his face and reel him in with her extraordinary powers of practicality instead of Gina, who was staring out the window, making a few snide passes at him for making them late.

They really did not make a pretty picture upon their arrival at Douglas Shapiro's beach house. Their arms were linked, which ironically gave them an opportunity to look away from each other. They went their separate ways soon after introductions, Castle bumping into some of his Hamptons poker buddies and Gina heading towards the socialite corner, with women that dressed and talked just like her. He watched her traipse away from him across the marble floor, so at home, sweeping up a cocktail glass from the side table in one swift move while making ingratiating conversation with the hostess. It was such a strange contrast to Kate, who had seemed so bewildered yet fascinated at these events, so ill at ease yet exuding a certain alluring confidence in that warm smile she gave when she introduced herself as Kate, adding an awkward '_I'm a Detective with the NYPD_' later. He loved her when she was out of her comfort zone. Undercover or otherwise, she'd never failed to surprise him_. _

_He sure knew how to pick 'em._

When he finally managed to steer his mind off Kate and towards the conversation that he was an inadvertent participant of, he realised his poker buddies were talking about the crime wave in New York.

"So Rick, the NYPD finally kicked you out, huh? Make the crime rates go up instead of down?" one of his buddies joked.

"The Hamptons do seem to be unusually crowded this weekend, even for Memorial Weekend," another added and the group burst into laughter.

Castle tried in vain to search for an expression to disguise his bruised ego. He knew quite well that his friends wouldn't let him off the hook without a few tales of the detective world.

"You guys won't even believe how many kinds of crazy criminals I've dealt with recently. Just this week we dealt with a spy-game killer."

"Are you making this stuff up, Rick?" a friend stepped in and Castle's buddies snickered in disbelief.

Castle ignored them and went on with his tale.

"Oh you wish! All of these guys actually pretending to be spies for fun, and a guy got shot in the middle of the whole thing. Beckett was livid when our witnesses wouldn't cooperate. They thought the murder was a part of the game! In the end though, it was the same old motive- jealousy. And now here I am, trying to spend a few days away from both cops and murderers," he concluded, satisfied by their prompt acceptance of his expertise.

Kate however, was probably out there somewhere, chasing criminals down day and night, probably running herself ragged and ignoring proper meal times…unless she was with Demming, spending Memorial Weekend at his fishing cabin or beach house or whatever. He did not like either of those two possibilities. Selfishly, he hoped it was the former. Because that would mean there would still be place for him in her life someday, even though it meant she was having no fun at all and exhausting herself beyond safety limits with no one there to make her coffee. He still marvelled at the way she put her job before her own well-being for the city, as did many other cops in the NYPD. Surely they deserved recognition for their efforts. The article that Paula had talked about could go a long way in doing that. But..nah. It was still too soon to think about Beckett or New York. And he really didn't have time at all.

He was driven off his train of thought by his phone. One quick glance at the screen told him it was Alexis, and he excused himself and made his way to the beach excitedly.

xxx


End file.
